


Far and Away

by AmethystLuna



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Death, Gen, Injury, Violence, not technically meant to be suicide but a warning for it just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystLuna/pseuds/AmethystLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How many times can one go through respawn in quick succession? Parv isn’t doing this for science, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far and Away

**Author's Note:**

> [A/N: A purely cathartic piece about how difficult it can be as an adult with autism when you're expected to be capable of Being An Adult at all times but sometimes you can't handle being that. Disclaimer on that, however: Not every adult with autism experiences processing overload in the same way, this merely illustrates my own personal struggle. | Background music: “Broken As Me” by Papa Roach]

He was a grown man and he would throw a temper tantrum if he wanted to.

And that’s exactly what he did. He shoved storage chests around, knocking two of them over then kicking their spilled contents out across the sorting system platform. He stomped on some of the glass bottles that skittered out. Punted a bobbing collection of unknown gemstones into the wall. Crushed an old hunk of bread under his heel. He dragged another chest to the edge of the platform, overturning it just for the satisfaction of hearing the mixed junk inside _klunk!_ and _smash!_ over the floor below. He shoved the container itself over the side for good measure. It sort of made a scraping sound but didn’t come apart.

What else could he break?

Okay, not the blood altar, tempting as it was to see what happened when you smashed a beacon.  At the back of his mind he knew he’d be the one cleaning everything up later. There was enough rationale left in there to see that rebuilding parts of the altar would just be a pain in the ass.

Ah, but _beneath_ the altar.

Parv snatched up his bound sword and kicked open the hatch that led into the dark open space below, jumping right on in.  He landed in a crouch, feet sinking a little ways into the mottled cursed earth lining the floor.

“Hellllllo, little mindless zombies!” he crowed as he swung at the first undead that shambled toward him. He felt an arrow strike his shoulder a half second later. Ah, skeletons off in the corners there. He slashed through another zombie on the way toward the archer, dodging a few other arrows on the way. This left him open to skeletons on the other side. Well, he would simply deal with them next.

A few minutes of cutting down undead later his shoulders and back were bristling with arrows but he just kept going. Thudding pulse of his heart, rasping breath as he panted, muscles arguing all the sudden movement, but he kept going. Kept swinging. Kept shoving. His fingers came up against something that wasn’t sagging clothing or rotten flesh. Creeper fur. He shoved with all his might to get distance between himself and the creature.

It wasn’t enough to clear the blast radius.

Parv was slammed full force and face first into the nearest wall. The sword clattered from his hand. He sank down, leaving a trail of blood from his nose along the stone. He groaned, blindly pushing himself away from the wall, hand slapping onto the floor. He clutched his head with the other, then felt around for his sword. He wasn’t done yet. _No. Nope. Getting up. Get up. No. I will keep fighting these fuckers. I’ll fight them all and kill them all and I will win and I will keep crushing whoever gets in my way._

The red glint of a second Creeper’s eyes burned into him from two steps away. _Hissssss…._

_Krkbooom_

Parv groaned as he came to on a bed in the empty cultist’s room. Dammit, his sword. _And_ everything else he’d had on him. He lurched upward, tore around the corner to the altar and stomped the hatch open. He waited long enough to see which side of the chamber his stuff was laying in, then he jumped down again.  This time he was more wary of the Creepers, dancing around and grabbing up items as he passed by. It took a few rounds of running to get everything. He prioritized the sword of course, and started cutting down every Creeper within range. Once they were thinned out to satisfaction he went back to tearing into the zombies. He slammed an elbow into the face of any skeleton that he got close enough to, ignoring the way shattered teeth scraped his elbows and made them bleed. Then a Creeper suddenly spawned right behind him. The world exploded again.

He died. He respawned. He jumped back into the pit under the altar yet again. He could do this all day.

It wasn’t like anyone was around to stop him.

He swung the bound sword harder.

It wasn’t like anyone would notice the death counter rise.

Tore the blade free, viciously shoved the next monster.

It wasn’t like anyone _cared_ if he existed in this constant dance of death to life to death again.

He could do this all day.

Alive. Dead. Alive Dead. Did it matter? This was it. This was all there was. No room for anything else, blocking out all other thoughts with only _this._

_Slashsmashcrash_

Nothing else. This was all he needed, right now; forever, even.

“Step right up, who wants to be the next to GET PARVED?!”

Arrows thudded into his back. He spun, cut down a zombie, and ran headlong right at the offending cluster of skeletons. _Clack! Clatter!_ Bones scattered in his wake.

_Hissssss….KRRBOOM_

Back again. Parvis laughed. “Come on! Is that all you’ve got? You’re getting _borrrrrrr-ring!”_

His head snapped back from the force of an arrow striking his head. He glared up along the shaft at the offending archer. “If you were trying to shut me up, you _missed!_ ”

A zombie bit into his shoulder.

He took its head off.

More arrows hit. He roared. _Swoosh_ went the sword. Ichor flew. _Clackerclash._ Splintered bones bounced off the wall. _Hissssss….KRRBOOM_. Parv’s face hit the floor.

Up. Get up. No stopping. There is no stopping. This never ends. Break, break break. Just break _everything_. If it’s broken, it goes away. You no longer have to deal with it. Break breakbreakbreak Just break it all. Good it’s all broken now brokenbrokenbroken—

Parv pushed himself up from the bed only to have the world spin, everything seeming to shift in a way that made him tilt and drop like a sack of lead. He attempted to stop from falling but his hands glanced off of the surface he had tried to grab – the bed? The wall? A chest? Where was he? His palms hit cold stone. His arms felt numb. He tried to push them against the ground anyway, get back on his feet. He wasn’t done yet. He could keep going. He _would_ keep going—

He stood upright and the world spun again.

He cursed and tried to will his brain to make his body balance.

He took a heavy step forward. Then another. He wobbled. He forced himself to continue staying upright. To take another step. The world continued to shift. He could hear the undead groaning and clacking under the altar. He stepped forward.

He promptly found his face slamming into the floor again. Pin and needles ran through his elbows from the impact. Had he attempted to break his fall? He didn’t remember putting his arms out. He growled something and got up on his knees. Crawled toward the open hatch. Squinted down into the dark pit. It looked like one if not more of the Creeper explosions had damaged the rituals.

What the fuck _ever._

He leaned over the hatch. Fell in head first.

Back through the respawn he went.

**~End~**


End file.
